


Lonesome-Hearted Lovers With Too Personal A Tale

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-13
Updated: 2005-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Things fall through the cracks and when they do, either he catches it or she catches it or they will it into non-existence.  The system works, thus far.





	Lonesome-Hearted Lovers With Too Personal A Tale

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Lonesome-Hearted Lovers With Too Personal A Tale**

**by: Delightfully Eccentric**

**Pairing(s):** CJ/Toby  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The West Wing characters and histories aren't mine, and are used here for love, not money.  
**Summary:** Things fall through the cracks and when they do, either he catches it or she catches it or they will it into non-existence. The system works, thus far.  


She was in a nightclub toilet with thunder and punk rock in her ears the first time she came and she's never quite exorcised the sense of shame the Church instilled in her. 

He's never come close to having sex in a public place, unless he counts the campaign bus. 

But everyone has sex on a campaign, so it didn't mean anything. 

And all college girls who can trap suitable older men do, so that didn't mean anything more. 

His multiple sisters cost him a lot of girlfriends growing up. They never took much notice of the girls David brought home (to be fair, not that large a number, for during the summer of love a math geek did not a sex god make) but the younger of the Ziegler boys has yet to meet the maiden who can conform to the matriarchy's hopes for the baby brother. 

She, on the other hand, found brothers' friends an invaluable source of male companionship and education, always secure in the knowledge that they were too afraid of familial retribution to object when she teased them. 

She thinks Fate was having an off-day when they were introduced, that the heavens were too busy making sunshine to melt the snow in Minnesota to pay attention to a couple of feckless mortals who'd be better off never being described as a couple. 

Not that they ever are described so. 

After all, nothing they've ever done together meant anything, especially not when he came to her home and broke her grandmother's wedding china and utterly failed to disclose that their craven idol has an incurable debilitating disease. 

There was a moment when she thought it mattered he, without a word, unpacked the suitcase she'd prepared never intending to use it but needing to leave a door open. The moment passed. 

It doesn't mean anything when he buys her lingerie, except that when she parts the hairs on his chin she can see red. She swaggers when he's walking behind her. 

When he lays down an order and makes her do it, it means a lot, but nothing that someone could point to and name inappropriate. When she moves past it without forgiving him, it means more. 

It is certainly meaningless that he knows the accuracy of the great in bed comment because, let's face it, so does a larger percentage of the population than she's entirely comfortable admitting to her priest, which is one of the many reasons she doesn't have a priest these days. 

She goes for men with brains too big for their heads and heads too big for their own good, so by rights she should be married off to Josh by now. 

He has a tendency to be drawn to women who hate him just a little and can't escape him quite a lot, which would make both Bonnie and Ginger perfect matches if it weren't so well known that they're dating each other. 

He loves pie and she knows how to make pancakes, so sometimes she banishes him to the stoop to grumble with his mouth full. 

The cappuccino maker doesn't work but it doesn't fall apart when she smacks it, and there's a metaphor in there somewhere. She's still brought him more hot beverages than Donna ever has for Josh; he's brought her headaches but there's a fine line between pleasure and pain. 

Things fall through the cracks and when they do, either he catches it or she catches it or they will it into non-existence. The system works, thus far. 

She doesn't care if he sells his soul to Satan and uses Al Kiefer as the broker, and he doesn't care if she uses the skills he taught her to lie to him. 

Sometimes he smokes and paces like the alley cat he used to be, hisses, spits and scratches like one too. She makes it worse by knowing it has more to do with him than her. 

It's ugly, often, but too indistinct to acquire such a reputation. It's a perfect example of the ubiquitous 'thing', left undefined for more reasons than discretion. 

She makes him feel something and people don't usually do that. It's taken him some time to realise that what he feels isn't necessarily good. 

You can't add apples and oranges but you can have both in your fruit bowl, says a magnet someone bought her once. It irritates him and she isn't sure it's true, but it's still on the door of their fridge. 

They live around each other and when one gets in the other's way it's equal parts nasty and nice. 

She loves him when the sun is shining and hates him when he does selfish things for humanitarian reasons. His moods are fairly static and as far as they relate to her, he still doesn't go far beyond being frustrated and fascinated. 

When they compete, he usually wins. She wouldn't care much, except that he does. 

When they have an evening off work they gravitate towards the same room, then stand a foot apart, staring out of the window at the rain over the cityscape and asking themselves such questions as, is love supposed to make you happy; how does love measure up to politics; are they in love? Usually there's touching later. 

The story they don't have will never be made into a movie, and a damn good thing. She has a distaste for things with artistic pretensions that don't mean anything. Besides, no one wants to see epics anymore. 

Particularly those with irresolute endings. 

End 


End file.
